


In Pursuit of Happiness

by nineofcupsnpc, very_important_army



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 23:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17838233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineofcupsnpc/pseuds/nineofcupsnpc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_important_army/pseuds/very_important_army
Summary: Yanjun realizes his feelings for Zhangjing at the same time he realizes Zhangjing has a crush on another man.Too bad Yanjun is too much of a coward to do anything about it.✧ ✧ ✧Prompt:#85: bestfriends!zhangjun where yanjun starts to realize that he loves zhangjing more than just a friend. but instead of confessing, he tried to distance himself and tried to control his feelings bcos he knows zhangjing had the longest crush to that 'yellow guy'. not even realizing it was him.





	In Pursuit of Happiness

Dinghao yanks the door open, scowling. Yanjun looks up lazily from where he’s watching a movie on his phone.

 

“What happened now?” he asks monotonously. Knowing Dinghao’s overdramatic ass, it’s probably a petty incident that happened at work.

 

“You Zhangjing won’t stop fucking talking about his crush,” Dinghao complains. “But this bitch refuses to listen to me when I tell him that he likes him back!”

 

Yanjun drops his phone. “Zhangjing has a crush?” The question comes out choked, and Yanjun hacks violently, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “He never told me.” Yanjun tries not to let it sting.

 

“Yeah, Zhangjing’s had a crush on this guy for years now,” Dinghao says, giving Yanjun an unreadable look. “What, you don’t know about the Yellow Guy?” he continues. “I thought Zhangjing was your best friend.”

 

Yanjun bites his lip. “He is...” he mumbles.

 

Dinghao hums, corners of his lips twitching into small smirk. Yanjun briefly wonders what’s so funny, but he can’t concentrate on it for long — You Zhangjing, his Zhangjing, has a crush?

 

Yanjun, for the life of him, can’t figure out why this revelation upsets him so much.

 

* * *

 

“Lin Yanjun, stop brooding over there in your little corner and let’s go,” Dinghao nags impatiently, tugging fruitlessly at Yanjun’s arm. “Chaoze and Zhangjing are already on their way.”

 

Yanjun sits up suddenly, knocking Dinghao backwards. “Zhangjing’s coming?”

 

Dinghao scowls at him from the floor. “Yes, you dumbass. Is that all you care about?”

 

“I thought he had vocal practice.”

 

“He skipped. It’s Ziyi’s birthday party, man.”

 

“Zhangjing _hates_ skipping vocal practice—”

 

A honk from outside the window interrupts Yanjun, who scowls unpleasantly. Dinghao grabs his wrist, dragging him outside.

 

“I call shotgun!” Dinghao hollers as soon as he opens the door. Yanjun reluctantly follows him, trudging to the backseat.

 

As soon as he opens the door, he’s met with Zhangjing’s bright grin. His heart does a weird backflip in his chest, and Yanjun swallows hard.

 

“So,” Zhangjing announces, “since I’m missing my vocal practice for this, you guys will just have to hear me practice in the car.”

 

As Zhangjing launches into high note after high note, run after run, Yanjun can’t help but break into a smile, and he realizes that just the mere sight of Zhangjing lifts his mood immediately.  

 

Of course, this may also be due to Chaoze and Dinghao’s fervent complaints of Zhangjing being so noisy that they want to die, consequently doubling the noise in the car themselves.

 

Yanjun finds himself laughing for the first time since he found out about That Yellow Guy.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, they find themselves playing Truth or Dare, and Yanjun doesn’t know what he did in his past life to deserve to be friends with someone as devilish as Lin Chaoze.

 

“You Zhangjing, I dare you to sit in Lin Yanjun’s lap for the rest of the game,” Chaoze grins at Zhangjing.

 

Zhangjing sputters. He peeks up at Yanjun through his lashes shyly, and Yanjun feels his stomach twist — though he can’t tell if it’s in nerves or anticipation.

 

Perhaps both.

 

Zhangjing perches himself gingerly on the edge of Yanjun’s lap, clearly holding himself back.

 

Yanjun itches to pull Zhangjing closer, secure in his lap and flush against his own chest — for as touchy as Zhangjing is, Yanjun is unused to the older man distancing himself like this, and it feels _wrong_.

 

But a sudden thought makes Yanjun’s blood run cold.

 

_What if Zhangjing’s crush is here so he doesn’t want to hang on to me?_

 

And so Yanjun resists the urge to pull him closer, to wind his arms around his waist, to rest his chin on Zhangjing’s shoulder.

 

_I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. And I don’t want Yellow Guy to think Zhangjing is taken either._

 

But as Zhangjing nearly throws himself off of Yanjun’s lap and onto the floor from laughing at Dinghao’s shrieks of fear (“I don’t wanna touch Xiao Gui’s hair! I’m so scared! Please don’t hit me!”), Yanjun instinctively curls his fingers around Zhangjing’s hips, stabilizing him.

 

And when Dinghao dares Zhangjing to kiss the birthday boy, (“Me again?” Zhangjing shrieks. Yanjun kind of wants to strangle Dinghao), Yanjun can’t help but dig his fingers into Zhangjing’s hips, only letting go when Zhangjing crawls out of his grasp to plant a firm kiss on Ziyi’s lips.  

 

Ziyi’s arms come around to wrap around Zhangjing tenderly, freely, and Yanjun can hear the sound of his own heart breaking. Tears sting in his eyes, and he looks away, biting down hard on his lip to distract himself from the whistling of their friends, Ziyi’s gentle smile, and Zhangjing’s shy flush.

 

_They look good together, I guess._

 

* * *

 

The next day, Yanjun finds Zhangjing at lunch. The other boy is sitting alone, shoveling food into his mouth happily, only sparing Yanjun a greeting hum through his mouthful of rice.

 

“Who’s the Yellow Guy?” The question spills out of his mouth before he can reel it in.

 

Zhangjing chokes violently. Yanjun winces, handing him a napkin apologetically.

 

“How did you know about that?” Zhangjing splutters, still coughing. “He’s really sweet,” Zhangjing says, when he catches his breath. A small, genuine smile spreads over his lips and his cheeks flush.

 

Yanjun knows he should be happy for him, but for some reason, he’s finding it _really_ difficult.

 

Zhangjing peeks at Yanjun shyly, giggling nervously. “He’s so handsome, I think he’s the most beautiful man I’ve seen in my life. And he takes such good care of his friends. He’s so considerate!” Zhangjing gushes, as if once he starts talking about him, he can’t stop.

 

Yanjun wants desperately to know who it is.

 

“You really like him, huh?” Yanjun murmurs with a weak chuckle.

 

“Yes,” Zhangjing admits. “I think I love him.”

 

“You should tell him that,” Yanjun forces the words out. His tongue feels thick and heavy, and can barely form the words.

 

He wants to be a good friend to Zhangjing, but why does the idea of Zhangjing confessing to another man hurt him so much?

 

Zhangjing smiles strangely. “He’s a dumbass and I don’t think he likes me back. He’s never shown any signs of it, anyway.”

 

Yanjun huffs, blowing up his bangs in exasperation, relieved and irritated all at once. “What an idiot. Can’t even appreciate what’s in front of him.”

 

Zhangjing giggles nervously, flushing pink.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun throws himself into bed, in a significantly worse mood than before. After talking to Zhangjing, all he can imagine is Zhangjing confessing to a handsome, nameless man, clinging onto him, and smiling up at him with Yanjun’s favorite smile. Because of course Zhangjing’s Yellow Guy would reciprocate his feelings. Who wouldn’t? Yanjun’s chest aches, and he buries his head into his pillow.

 

Then he imagines himself in that position. And to his surprise, a seed of yearning plants itself into his chest, and suddenly he can’t stop thinking about it.

 

He stares at his ceiling, letting his imagination run rampant.

 

_Zhangjing sits pressed against his side, and Yanjun’s arm is around him. Zhangjing looks up at him, eyes bright, and Yanjun leans down, meaning to press a kiss against his temple, but Zhangjing turns to him and very purposefully presses his lips against his. Yanjun kisses him back greedily, and Zhangjing giggles into his mouth before wrapping his arms around the back of Yanjun’s neck and pulling him down harshly. Yanjun falls onto Zhangjing’s body, lips never parting, and Yanjun is happy._

 

_Yanjun wakes up before Zhangjing, and the older boy is still deep in sleep, sprawled across the entire bed. Yanjun is shoved off to the edge, nearly falling off, yet he can’t find it in him to be upset — not when one socked foot is adorably kicked on top of Yanjun’s abdomen, the other is hanging off the opposite side of the bed, and Zhangjing’s head is pillowed on Yanjun’s arm. Yanjun slowly shifts so that he’s not falling, and Zhangjing snores cutely before turning to nuzzle into Yanjun’s chest. Yanjun is happy._

 

_Zhangjing climbs into Yanjun’s lap, hunger in his eyes. He grinds his hips against Yanjun’s, and Yanjun groans, desire stirring in his groin. Zhangjing gets to work marking up Yanjun’s neck, and he can’t help but tip his head back, mind blurry from the sensations. Yanjun feels rather than hears Zhangjing chuckle breathily beside his ear, and his pants suddenly feel far too tight. Yanjun lets his hands creep under Zhangjing’s shirt, caressing the soft flesh, but suddenly, Zhangjing’s warmth is ripped away from him. Yanjun’s eyes fly open, ready to protest, but the complaints die on his lips when he realizes that Zhangjing is kneeling in front of his tented crotch, lips parted and eyes darkened with desire. Zhangjing tugs at the band of Yanjun’s pants, and Yanjun fumbles for his belt, yanking down the constricting fabric with shaky hands. Zhangjing wraps his cold hands around the base of his cock and his warm mouth around the tip, and Yanjun groans loudly, hands finding their way into Zhangjing’s curls. Yanjun is definitely happy._

 

Yanjun sighs heavily. He’s not an idiot — he realizes now that he’s in love with his best friend. As if a normal person would fantasize about his best friend like this.  

 

But now he also knows that said best friend is in love with someone else.

 

Someone far handsomer than Yanjun, far kinder than Yanjun. Wang Ziyi?

 

With a twinge of jealousy, Yanjun realizes that Ziyi really would be the perfect boyfriend. Tall, dark and handsome, with the stature of a model and the temperment of an angel. Ziyi’s taken care of Zhangjing more times than Yanjun can count, with his tender touch and gentle smiles.

 

And Yanjun remembers the flush on Zhangjing’s cheeks when he pressed his lips against Ziyi’s, Zhangjing’s awkwardness and reluctance to sit on Yanjun’s lap, and Ziyi’s careful touch on Zhangjing’s body, as if he were fragile and precious.

 

So maybe Yellow Guy is Ziyi.

 

And maybe, Yanjun can’t help but resent him for it.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun hates that he can’t control his emotions. Yanjun likes Ziyi, he really does — the younger man is a great friend, and practically too kind to Yanjun. But he also can’t control the urge to glare at Ziyi’s arm around Zhangjing’s shoulder as they sit on the couch together.

 

He’s supposed to be focused on the movie in front of him, but Zhangjing is pressed comfortably against Ziyi’s side, and a whole foot away from Yanjun.

 

Yanjun seethes, burning holes into Ziyi’s arm, but he can’t bring himself to pull Zhangjing away from Ziyi, either — Zhangjing looks too happy and comfortable there.

 

And now they’re even holding hands.

 

And Yanjun feels like a third wheel, even though Zhangjing is _his_ best friend and this movie was _his_ idea.

 

Why did Ziyi just have to be there when Yanjun invited Zhangjing over?

 

Ziyi leans over to whisper commentary into Zhangjing’s ear, and Zhangjing giggles.

 

Yanjun can’t take it anymore. He gets up and storms out of the room, ignoring the surprised and concerned gaze he can feel boring into his back.

 

But Zhangjing doesn’t follow him.

 

Yanjun’s heart breaks a little more as he resolves to keep his distance from the budding couple. For Zhangjing’s sake, of course.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun didn’t realize how much time he spends with Zhangjing until he tried to stay away from him. He deliberately arrives late to classes that he shares with Zhangjing, so he can just wave at him and quickly take a seat in the chair closest to the door, and disappear again as soon as the bell rings. Every time Zhangjing tries to hang out with him, Yanjun _conveniently_ has an essay to write or a test to study for. He takes his lunch at odd times when he knows Zhangjing is in class, and eats by himself in misery.

 

He tries to ignore the hurt in Zhangjing’s eyes when he walks away from him once again. Because if not, his heart would fall and shatter into a million pieces, knowing that he was the one that caused it.

 

Because Yanjun knows that whatever pain Yanjun inflicts onto Zhangjing will quickly be overshadowed by Zhangjing’s happiness when he’s with Ziyi, so even it if kills Yanjun to be apart from the one he loves, he’ll do it for Zhangjing.

 

But Yanjun is exhausted. Hot tears prickle in the back of his eyes and threaten to spill over.

 

He misses Zhangjing more than he thought possible.  

 

Yanjun crawls into bed, chasing the emptiness of sleep. As he falls into a fitful, restless sleep, he thinks he hears Zhangjing’s voice.

 

 _At least I can see him in my dreams,_ Yanjun thinks blissfully.

 

“Ah, Lin Yanjun, are you feeling sick?”

 

The older boy sounds tender and loving, and Yanjun craves more. Dream-Zhangjing’s hand comes up to rest on Yanjun’s forehead, warm and comforting. Yanjun turns his face towards the touch, prolonging the contact when Dream-Zhangjing pulls away.

 

_If I can’t touch him in real life, at least I have him in my dreams._

 

“I miss you, Lin Yanjun,” Dream-Zhangjing says, somewhat sadly. His lips form a pout, and his eyes are downcast. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

 

Yanjun wants to see him smile again, so he says, “I miss you too.”

 

Or at least he tries to. What comes out is more of an incomprehensible mumble, but Dream-Zhangjing still smiles.

 

Dream-Zhangjing leans down to kiss him on the forehead, and Yanjun savors the moment. Dream-Zhangjing then pulls back and fades away, but Yanjun is content.

 

“Feel better soon, Lin Yanjun.”

 

* * *

 

When Yanjun wakes up, it’s pitch black outside. Dinghao is snoring in the corner, but Yanjun is wide awake. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and wanders into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes blearily.

 

A familiar laugh stops him in his tracks.

 

An infectious laugh that is uniquely You Zhangjing’s rings from the kitchen, and Yanjun anxiously peers around the corner.

 

Zhangjing and Ziyi ( _of course it’s Ziyi_ , Yanjun groans to himself) are huddled over the stove, and Zhangjing is falling over Ziyi’s arm as he laughs. Yanjun watches as Ziyi quietly moves the pot handle so that Zhangjing doesn’t bump into it as he supports Zhangjing’s weight with his other arm, and Yanjun is struck by how caring Ziyi is.

 

How boyfriend-material Ziyi is.

 

And Yanjun is rarely ever self-conscious, but being around Ziyi makes him realize all his flaws.

 

Like his height.

 

And his strength.

 

And his inability to communicate his feelings to Zhangjing.

 

Yanjun retreats back to his room, glaring fiercely at his shoes and feeling sorry for himself.

 

Loving, gentle Zhangjing deserves someone who can care for him like Ziyi. Insecure little Zhangjing deserves someone who can love him like Ziyi. And bright, joyful Zhangjing deserves someone who can make him happy like Ziyi.

 

Besides, if Yanjun confessed to Zhangjing now, wouldn’t that just ruin everything? He imagines kind Zhangjing being torn between Ziyi and Yanjun — the one he wants and the one he doesn’t want to hurt.

 

Wouldn’t it just be better for Yanjun to keep silent? So that sweet Zhangjing won’t feel guilty for loving Ziyi, who is the better choice for him anyway.

 

Because as much as Yanjun hates to admit it, maybe he can’t love Zhangjing the way he deserves to be loved — unabashedly, honestly, proudly.

 

But Yanjun is selfish. And he’ll continue to love Zhangjing anyway, clandestine and secretive.

 

Hoping that maybe one day, Zhangjing will be his.

 

* * *

 

By the time Yanjun’s alarm actually rings for class that morning, there is a small thermos by his bedside.

 

_Lin Yanjun, Dinghao said you weren’t feeling well yesterday, so I asked Ziyi to help me make some herbal tea for you. Drink up and get well soon!_

 

So that’s what he was doing last night. The thermos is still warm, so it must not have been very long since Zhangjing finished.

 

 _Did he get enough sleep?_ Yanjun wonders. He takes a gulp of the tea (and nearly gags, but forces himself to down the rest anyway — it’s full of Zhangjing’s affection, after all) and makes his way to the next door room.

 

He hesitates at the door — perhaps for a beat too long. The door flies open, startling both Yanjun and Chaoze, who had flung it open from inside.

 

“Er, is Zhangjing asleep?” Yanjun asks hastily.

 

Chaoze nods. “I can let him know you’re looking for him when I get back from class, if you want.”   

 

“No, it’s okay,” Yanjun blurts. “I’ll uh, just find him later.”

 

Chaoze nods, in too much of a hurry to actually care, and rushes off for his class. Yanjun breathes a sigh of relief, before quietly slipping into the room.

 

Zhangjing is sprawled across his entire bed, limbs hanging off comedically. Soft snores accompany the rise and fall of his chest, and Yanjun kneels softly by his side.

 

“Thank you for the medicine, You Zhangjing,” Yanjun says quietly, trying not to wake him up. He takes a deep breath, and the words that he dares not say out loud to Zhangjing’s face spill out into the still room.

 

“I miss you a lot, Zhangjing,” Yanjun murmurs almost inaudibly. “I love you a lot and I want you to be happy.” Yanjun feels quite child-like in the simplicity of his speech, but he’s never been good with words — after all, he’s never needed to put his emotions into words when Zhangjing knows him like the back of his hand.

 

“Thank you for caring for me, but you shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of me anymore. I hope you’ll able to put those feelings towards Yellow Guy now. I don’t want to be a burden to your happiness. Just be happy, You Zhangjing.”

 

Yanjun quietly stands up, tucks the blanket securely underneath Zhangjing’s chin, and slips out the door as quietly as he came in.

 

But just as he steps outside, he runs straight into Dinghao, who is staring at him quite intently, uncharacteristically serious.

 

“Why aren’t you telling him that in person?” Dinghao interrogates.

 

Yanjun plays dumb. “Tell him what?”

 

“That you love him, of course.”

 

 _Busted._ Yanjun scoffs. “Why should I? It’s not like it’s going to change anything.”

 

“What do you mean? It’ll change everything!”

 

“Zhangjing doesn’t even like me, I’m not going to confess to him and fuck up our friendship. I’d rather him just be happy with Ziyi.”

 

Dinghao stares at him, unimpressed. “You’re an idiot, Lin Yanjun. A dumbass and a coward. Just cause you’re afraid of change, you don’t get to hurt You Zhangjing like this.”

 

Yanjun opens his mouth, ready to protest.

 

“And you _are_ hurting him,” Dinghao steamrolls on, “By ignoring him like this. By making him think that you’re angry with him, that you don’t _care_ about him anymore. Do you know how many times Zhangjing came up to me this week, about to cry because you ran away from him again? He asked me, in the most miserable voice, why you hated him. All because of what? Your cowardice? Your fear of change? Your fear of your own feelings?” Dinghao scolds, more serious than Yanjun’s ever seen him before.  

 

“Isn’t it better to not burden him with my feelings? He’ll be happier with Ziyi,” Yanjun says, trying to sound as genuine as he can.

 

Dinghao tilts his head. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

 

And Yanjun doesn’t have an answer.

 

“Zhangjing cares about you, Lin Yanjun. And don’t you forget that.”

 

* * *

 

Dinghao’s words ring in his ears when Yanjun spots Zhangjing taking lunch. He watches as the older boy sits in a secluded table in the corner, picking at his food and looking lonely.

 

Yanjun can’t help himself, and gathers up his half-eaten lunch to stride over to Zhangjing’s table and plop himself down next to the older man.

 

Zhangjing startles, but when he sees Yanjun, his eyes shine.

 

“Yanjun!” He cries happily. “I missed you!”

 

Yanjun clears his throat, feeling his ears burn. _I missed you more,_ he years to say. “Me too,” he mumbles gruffly instead, but it seems to be enough for Zhangjing, who begins rambling about his day.

 

 _You really don’t deserve him,_ Yanjun scolds himself, _can’t even tell him that you miss him._ Sometimes Yanjun envies Zhangjing for being able to express his thoughts so freely, but more than that, he feels sorry that Zhangjing has such a cold best friend.

 

“And I have this English essay that I have to write, but it’s so hard!” Zhangjing is whining.

 

“I’ll help you with it,” Yanjun offers automatically. “Also, talk less, eat more,” he commands. “You lost weight.”

 

Zhangjing beams at him, and Yanjun’s heart flips and races.

 

“Here,” Yanjun hands Zhangjing his unopened banana milk, who takes it with a bright smile and an exaggerated “thank you!”  

 

Zhangjing begins shoveling food into his mouth happily, still chattering away, and Yanjun stares at him, smiling.

 

Zhangjing looks so, so beautiful.

 

Yanjun curls his fingers, digging his nails into his palm so he doesn’t do something stupid, like kiss the life out of him.

 

Yanjun is so, so fucked.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing smiles at him, eyes sparkling. “Lin Yanjun! I haven’t hung out with you in a while, I missed you! You’ll go to the food festival with me, right? Chaoze won’t go with me,” Zhangjing pouts.

 

Yanjun can see the shorter boy reaching out to hold onto his arm, and he panics.

 

“Err, about that, I’m actually busy then, I’ve got...stuff to do. But you can go with Yellow Guy!” Yanjun stutters, catching Zhangjing’s hand and bringing it down, patting his arm awkwardly.

 

Zhangjing is clearly surprised by Yanjun’s rejection, lips parting before forming into a small pout. He purses his lips, shoulders slumping, before pasting on a smile that Yanjun can see through right away.

 

Yanjun is surprised too — shouldn’t Zhangjing be happy that he can spend more time with Yellow Guy? Perhaps Dinghao was right. (Not like Yanjun would ever tell him that, of course.)

 

Knowing that Zhangjing still wants to spend time with him, even though he could be going on dates with Yellow Guy, fills Yanjun with an indescribable warmth.

 

“Go with Yellow Guy,” Yanjun urges gruffly. “But do you want to come over and watch a movie later, just you and me?”

 

* * *

 

That night, Yanjun finds himself on his worn out couch with Zhangjing curled into his side. The image reminds him too much of his forbidden fantasies, and he can’t help but press a tender kiss on the side of Zhangjing’s head.

 

But instead of Zhangjing kissing him back, the older man merely looks up at him with a confused glance.

 

Yanjun pretends that he doesn’t see it — there’s no way he can explain his actions, after all.

 

“How was the food festival?” Yanjun asks.

 

“I didn’t go,” Zhangjing pouts. “I guess it’s good anyway...I need to lose weight.”

 

Yanjun narrows his eyes at him. “Did Yellow Guy say that?” he interrogates, defensive. “Because you don’t. You know that.”

 

“No, he didn’t say that,” Zhangjing sighs, “but maybe he didn’t want to go with me because he’s embarrassed of me?” He hugs his knees close to his chest.

 

“I don’t see why he would have a reason to be embarrassed _of_ you,” Yanjun replies snippily. “Maybe he’s just embarrassed for himself because you’re so cute.”

 

“I don’t know,” Zhangjing grumps. “He’s so confusing. And dumb. And his stupid face is so handsome. I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” he pouts.   

 

Yanjun laughs, trying to ignore the twinge in his chest.

 

* * *

 

When Zhangjing asks if Yanjun wants to join him, Dinghao, Chaoze, and Ziyi for drinks to celebrate the end of finals, Yanjun declines. He doesn’t particularly want to see Zhangjing making heart eyes at Ziyi again, and he doesn’t even like going out that much anyway. Besides, knowing Dinghao, he’s probably going to make Zhangjing kiss Ziyi in front of them all again, and Yanjun really doesn’t want to be there for that.

 

Sometimes Yanjun wonders why Dinghao enjoys torturing him like this. He sprawls across his bed, trying not to imagine Zhangjing kissing Ziyi, Zhangjing touching Ziyi, Zhangjing fucking Ziyi — well, fuck.   

 

Yanjun’s door suddenly opens, and Yanjun bolts up. A small, familiar figure stands in the doorway.

 

“You Zhangjing, what are you doing here? I thought you went out with Chaoze and the rest,” Yanjun asks, instinctively raising his arms as the Zhangjing totters toward him.

 

Zhangjing reeks of alcohol, but his eyes are surprisingly clear, albeit a bit glassy. From tears?

 

“I missed you, so I came home,” Zhangjing replies simply. He throws himself onto Yanjun, who falls backwards on the bed with a loud _oof._

 

 _“_ Let’s get you to bed,” Yanjun says, trying to sit up.

 

Zhangjing pushes him back down roughly, and Yanjun looks up in shock. 

 

Desire. The lust is clear in Zhangjing’s eyes as he whispers, “I want you, Yanjun.” The older man is perched on top of Yanjun’s lap, and he slowly grinds his hips back and forth over Yanjun’s crotch.

 

Yanjun gasps and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control the stirring in his groin. _This is not a dream,_ Yanjun tells himself. _Zhangjing is in my lap, right now._

 

“Zhangjing, you’re drunk,” he protests weakly. He really doesn’t want to take advantage of Zhangjing in this state — does Zhangjing even know what he’s doing to him?

 

“I’m sober enough to know that I want you,” Zhangjing repeats firmly. He leans down and attempts to brush his lips against Yanjun’s, but the alcohol disorients him, and he misses Yanjun’s lips by a split centimeter. Zhangjing giggles at his mistake. “Kiss me, Yanjun.”

 

And Yanjun wants to do nothing more than to do just that, to capture his lips properly, to devour the smaller man.

 

But before he gives into his emotions, that little part in the back of his brain screams at him to resist, that Zhangjing will regret this, that you’ll lose Zhangjing forever if you do it.

 

_Lin Yanjun, you coward._

 

Dinghao’s voice rings in his head, and Yanjun snarls, “I’m not a coward.”

 

He thrusts that voice away from him, gags it and extinguishes the doubt that threatens to creep into his thoughts.

 

_Zhangjing wants this._

 

_I can be brave for Zhangjing._

 

_I can face change for Zhangjing._

 

Yanjun reaches up, sealing their lips together and lets himself give into his desires.

 

* * *

 

As Yanjun kisses Zhangjing hungrily, he can taste the alcohol on his tongue. Zhangjing moans into his mouth and wraps his arms around Yanjun’s neck eagerly, and Yanjun’s head spins, feeling intoxicated himself. Hurriedly, he strips Zhangjing of clothing before pulling his own pajamas off as Zhangjing whines impatiently. Hands trailing over Zhangjing’s legs, he pulls the older man’s legs around his own waist, and their bare cocks rub against each other.

 

Zhangjing writhes and twists underneath him, back splayed on the bed, and his hips lift up to grind against Yanjun’s crotch. Yanjun bites down where Zhangjing’s neck meets his shoulder, and when Zhangjing cries out, he soothes the reddening mark with his tongue.

 

“Yanjun, please,” Zhangjing begs, legs falling open, eyes wide and glassy. His neck is flushed, red as a strawberry, and Yanjun wants to taste him. Yanjun presses kisses down Zhangjing’s body, delighting in the tremors and choked gasps that he’s rewarded with, and traces Zhangjing’s puckered opening lightly with his index finger. Flicking open the bottle deftly, Yanjun coats his fingers with lube and carefully slips a finger inside Zhangjing’s warmth. He pumps his finger in and out slowly, and Zhangjing huffs in exasperation.

 

“Lin Yanjun, if you don’t fuck me right this instant, I swear to god-“

 

His words are cut off with a loud moan as Yanjun presses down on that bundle of nerves, and Zhangjing dissolves into incoherent mumbling. Yanjun smirks, adding another finger to stretch him and speeding up until Zhangjing is writhing and pulsating around him.

 

When Zhangjing begins pulsating rapidly around his fingers, and he deems Zhangjing prepared enough, Yanjun pulls his fingers out and wipes the excess lube on his own erect cock. Zhangjing grunts in disapproval at the emptiness, but as Yanjun presses his blunt tip against Zhangjing’s rim, his cries rise in pitch. Yanjun slowly sinks in, relishing in the feeling of Zhangjing in his arms in the most intimate way possible. Zhangjing wraps his legs around Yanjun’s waist, driving Yanjun’s cock deeper inside until Yanjun’s hips are pressed flush against Zhangjing’s skin.

 

Yanjun stills, trying to savor the moment. This isn’t another one of his one night stands, seeking mindless pleasure; this is You Zhangjing, the love of his life. He brushes Zhangjing’s sweaty hair off his forehead, admiring the need painted on his face.

 

But Zhangjing is impatient, and has no time for Yanjun’s sentimentality. With a sudden burst of strength, he flips Yanjun onto the bed, and begins riding Yanjun’s cock furiously, chasing the friction that his body craves. Yanjun groans, throwing his head back, and his vision blurs as Zhangjing plants blooming red flowers on his exposed neck, moving against his cock as if his life depended on it. Yanjun admires the way Zhangjing falls apart every time Yanjun lifts his hips to meet the other man’s bounces at just the right angle, and he caresses Zhangjing’s skin gently, lovingly.

 

Zhangjing is a treasure, after all.  

 

“Yanjun,” Zhangjing pleads as his legs begin to tremble. Yanjun nudges Zhangjing to the side, and as Zhangjing collapses in relief on the bed, Yanjun tucks himself in between the older man’s spread legs. Yanjun can feel his orgasm draw closer at the sound of his name falling musically from the other boy’s lips, and he begins pistoning his hips furiously to draw Zhangjing to his own climax. Reaching down to play with Zhangjing’s cock, he’s rewarded by Zhangjing squeezing around him and jerking uncontrollably, pleasure etched in every line of his face.

 

Zhangjing moans Yanjun’s name in broken sobs and pleasured whines as he tightens around his cock, and Yanjun feels the love and pleasure overwhelm him. He fills Zhangjing with stuttered spurts of release, and the warm stimulation triggers Zhangjing’s own orgasm. Zhangjing arches his back, rubbing his cock against Yanjun’s stomach, and the friction drives him over the edge.

 

“I love you,” Yanjun whispers into Zhangjing’s skin as his climax subsides, but Zhangjing is keening and whining and blind and deaf to anything outside his own orgasm.

 

Yanjun’s confession is lost to the air, and he dares not repeat the words.

 

* * *

 

When Yanjun wakes up the next morning, the bed is empty. He shoots up, heart plummeting down to his stomach, and makes his way to the next door room, pushing open the door urgently.

 

Chaoze’s bed is empty, but Zhangjing is curled up into a tight ball on his bed, sniffling weakly, and when he makes eye contact with Yanjun, he rubs hastily at his eyes and sits up, bringing his knees up to his chest.

 

Yanjun hovers by Zhangjing’s bed, slowly sinking down on his knees so that he’s eye-level with Zhangjing - he waits silently, knowing that the older boy has something to get off his chest.

 

He doesn’t have to wait for very long.

 

“I’m sorry, Yanjun!” Zhangjing bursts, tears overflowing again.

 

Yanjun’s eyes widen in shock. Why is Zhangjing sorry, when Yanjun is the one who couldn’t control himself and took advantage of him while he was intoxicated?

 

Zhangjing hiccups through his sob, and Yanjun can’t help but reach out and brush his thumb over Zhangjing’s cheekbones, wiping his tears tenderly.

 

“You must be so disgusted by me,” Zhangjing sniffles. “I can’t believe I just...jumped you like that last night! You probably don’t even want me, I know I’m not the most handsome, and I’m fat—”

 

Yanjun presses a finger against Zhangjing’s lips.

 

“Don’t you dare say that about yourself,” Yanjun warns sternly, eyebrows drawn together in displeasure.

 

Zhangjing pulls Yanjun’s hand away, frowning. “I’m sorry I took advantage of you last night, Lin Yanjun. Can you...can you forgive me?” He looks sorrowfully at Yanjun, eyes rimmed with red and dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

 

Even now, Yanjun thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

 

Yanjun hoists himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “You Zhangjing,” he says firmly. “You listen to me.”

 

Zhangjing gulps noticeably, looking at Yanjun with wide eyes.

 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Yanjun says. “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want. If anything,” Yanjun takes a deep breath, “you gave me what I’ve been yearning for since forever. Just tell me that _I_ wasn’t the one who took advantage of _you,_ in your drunken state.”

 

Zhangjing scoffs, but the effect is ruined by another hiccup. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk, Yanjun. I knew that I wanted you. Alcohol only gave me the courage to act on it.” He sniffles, biting his lip and peering up at Yanjun as if afraid of his reaction.

 

“Good,” Yanjun sighs in relief. Then Yanjun closes his eyes, sucks in another breath, and resolves to, for once in his life, not be a fucking coward.

 

“You Zhangjing,” he exhales, opening his eyes. Zhangjing is staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips, and Yanjun wants to kiss him for the rest of his life. “I love you. I am _in love with you_. And I will always want you, just the way you are.”

 

Zhangjing’s lip trembles, and he throws himself into Yanjun’s arms. Reflexively, Yanjun wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his hair. “Do you mean it? I thought you hated me,” comes the muffled voice against his chest. Yanjun feels his stomach clench.

 

“Would I lie to you, You Zhangjing? I could never hate you,” he murmurs into Zhangjing’s ear. Zhangjing nods against Yanjun’s chest, smiling softly.

 

Yanjun exhales heavily, his breath washing over Zhangjing’s hair and ruffling the soft strands. The confession is done, but Yanjun must know gather his courage one last time.

 

 _For Zhangjing,_ Yanjun reminds himself. _For Zhangjing’s happiness._

 

 _“_ I don’t expect anything from you though,” Yanjun tells him softly. “My confession doesn’t need to change anything.”

 

Zhangjing pulls back slightly, brows drawn together in confusion. He looks absolutely adorable, and Yanjun wants to capture his lips in another kiss.

 

Yanjun thinks he has a problem — after getting a taste of Zhangjing’s kiss, Yanjun is now addicted.

 

Yanjun sighs. “You don’t have to give up on Ziyi just because you know that I love you now. I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me,” he spits out over the lump in his throat. Yanjun feels hollow inside, as if he’s just given up his heart.

 

And maybe he has.

 

“Ziyi?” Zhangjing repeats, utterly confused.

 

Yanjun blinks at him. “Isn’t Yellow Guy Ziyi?”

 

Zhangjing gapes at him. “Yellow—what—no!” He sputters. “You dumbass,” Zhangjing scoffs, falling backwards out of Yanjun’s grasp and laughing with his entire body.

 

“What’s so funny?” Yanjun demands, glaring.

 

“Idiot,” Zhangjing’s smile is fond, “Yellow Guy is _you._ ” Zhangjing giggles. “ Didn’t I _just_ tell you that I wanted you to fuck me even while sober?”

 

Yanjun’s heart stops, before speeding up abnormally. Suddenly lightheaded, he leans against the bed-frame.  

 

“I can’t believe I love such an idiot,” Zhangjing is saying, laughing. Yanjun can just barely hear him over the blood rushing in his ears, still shell-shocked.

 

You Zhangjing loves _him._ Lin Yanjun. You Zhangjing loves Lin Yanjun.

 

Yanjun must be dreaming.

 

“Hey.” Zhangjing crawls into Yanjun’s lap, poking his cheek. “Are you going crazy?”

 

Yanjun blinks. “Yes. Crazy in love with you,” he grins.

 

Zhangjing groans loudly, looking away in exasperation. Yanjun’s heart fills with joy, and he tackles Zhangjing onto the bed so that they’re both lying down. Zhangjing squeals, giggling madly. Yanjun pulls Zhangjing into his arms, curling around his back and entangling their legs together.

 

“Can I show you how much I love you?” Yanjun kisses the back of Zhangjing’s neck and plays with the waistband of Zhangjing’s pants.

 

Zhangjing turns over, smiling devilishly. “Me first,” he says, crawling down to face the front of Yanjun’s pants. Yanjun’s heart races, suddenly reminded of that one fantasy from ages ago.

 

Yanjun groans, pliant against the bed, as Zhangjing mouths against the growing bulge. Zhangjing reaches up to yank Yanjun’s pants and boxers just enough to free his cock, and as his erection springs free, Zhangjing reaches for it greedily. Before Yanjun can even blink, he’s already begun to suck at the tip, and Yanjun groans deep in his chest.

 

“Wait, Zhangjing,” he pants. “Ah!” As Zhangjing licks from base to tip with the tip of his tongue, Yanjun’s mind blanks. “Zhangjing,” he moans, unable to tell if he’s encouraging or discouraging him.

 

Zhangjing smirks up at him with faux innocence, wide eyed and questioning. “Doesn’t it feel good, Yanjun?”

 

And Zhangjing peering up from in between his legs, looking up at him with those eyes, makes Yanjun’s heart flip and his cock twitch.  

 

Yanjun shakes his head to clear his mind. “Zhangjing, come here,” Yanjun implores. Zhangjing clambers over obediently, giggling as Yanjun tries to steal a kiss.

 

“Yanjun, I just gave you head,” Zhangjing laughs.

 

“I don’t care,” Yanjun mumbles against Zhangjing’s lips, kissing him again and again. He lays Zhangjing gently on the bed, and begins to tug at Zhangjing’s t-shirt.

 

“No, wait,” Zhangjing, hastily brings the hem of his shirt down. His gaze slides past Yanjun as he flattens his mouth, nibbling at his lower lip anxiously.

 

“Zhangjing, I’ve already seen you,” Yanjun says, incredulous.

 

“But it’s _different,_ ” Zhangjing argues. “I’m no…like, Zhengting or Ziyi.”

 

“Thank god you’re not,” Yanjun smirks. “Zhangjing, I already saw everything last night, and you are so beautiful. Let me prove it to you, yeah?”

 

Zhangjing hesitates. “Close your eyes,” he demands. Yanjun smiles widely, dimples on display but eyes shut tightly compliantly. He hears the rustle of fabric as the t-shirt drops to the floor, and at Zhangjing’s shy “You can open your eyes now,” Yanjun blinks expectantly.

 

Zhangjing is lying bare chested in front of him, arms crossed over his stomach and hair splayed like a halo around his face. Yanjun begins to drop kisses down his neck and chest, trying to convey just how radiant the smaller man was. Zhangjing uncrosses his arms, entangling his hands in Yanjun’s hair, and Yanjun kisses his way down to Zhangjing’s soft belly, taking extra effort to nuzzle against the soft flesh lovingly. Zhangjing’s giggles warm his heart, and Yanjun smiles against Zhangjing’s skin.

 

“I love you, Zhangjing,” Yanjun says, the words falling easier and easier from his lips with every repetition. “I tried to tell you last night, but you didn’t hear me.”

 

“I hear you now,” Zhangjing says, blushing.

 

“Good,” Yanjun kisses his stomach loudly one last time for good measure before tugging at Zhangjing’s pants. Zhangjing lifts up his hips submissively, and Yanjun pulls his pants and underwear down before flinging them as far across the room as possible. Zhangjing laughs at him, smacking him on the shoulder, and Yanjun smiles wolfishly up at him before sinking his mouth onto Zhangjing’s cock.

 

Zhangjing’s laughter is cut off abruptly as he gasps. Yanjun struggles to fit Zhangjing’s entire cock into his mouth, wanting to hear the older man’s melodic moans and pleads, and sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks. Rewarded by Zhangjing’s broken gasps of his name, Yanjun tongues at Zhangjing’s slit, hungry for more of Zhangjing’s noises. Yanjun surfaces to breathe, taking a quick glance at Zhangjing. The older man is flushed, face shining and eyes watering. His lips are parted, drawing in shallow breaths, and Yanjun resumes his tasks, bobbing up and down to bring Zhangjing even closer to the edge.

 

“Yanjun,” Zhangjing whines. “I’m so close.”  His erection throbs in Yanjun’s mouth, and Yanjun places one last kiss on the tip before pulling back.

 

Feeling the absence of Yanjun’s mouth, Zhangjing lifts his head up to shoot a glare at him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Yanjun’s little spitfire demands.

 

“To fuck you,” Yanjun responds simply, motioning at Zhangjing to turn around. Zhangjing scrambles to do so, settling on his hands and knees, ass facing towards Yanjun. “No, wait,” Yanjun amends thoughtfully, ignoring Zhangjing’s blazing gaze, “to make love to you.”

 

And Yanjun bends down to drop another kiss in the curve of Zhangjing’s back.

 

“Touch me, Yanjun,” Zhangjing orders.

 

“I am touching you,” Yanjun replies cheekily, referring to his hands on Zhangjing’s hips, but Zhangjing is having none of it. He presses his ass against Yanjun’s cock, and Yanjun gasps as his neglected erection receives much desired friction. “Okay, fine, fine, you got me,” he pants. “Hold on, just let me grab the lube.”

 

“Hurry up, “ Zhangjing complains, wiggling his butt impatiently.

 

“So bossy,” Yanjun retorts, uncapping the bottle and drizzling its contents over Zhangjing’s opening. He slips two fingers into the hole easily. “You’re still stretched from last night,” he notes with interest.

 

“Yes, so can you just fuck me already?” Zhangjing gasps, trying to bite back a moan.

 

“Make love to you,” Yanjun corrects. “But yes, as his Highness wishes.”  He slowly presses his erection against Zhangjing’s pulsating asshole, sinking in with a satisfied grunt. And slowly he pumps in and out, admiring the way his cock disappears inside Zhangjing’s body.

 

“Go faster, Yanjun,” Zhangjing groans, clenching sporadically around Yanjun’s erection. Yanjun repositions himself so that he can fuck in and out, Zhangjing’s buttocks slapping against the front of his hips with every thrust. Yanjun marvels at the sound of Zhangjing’s pleas raising in both pitch and volume, until his cries drown out the sound of skin against skin.

 

Zhangjing screams as Yanjun hits just the right spot, and Yanjun grins as he continues to pound at the same angle.

 

“Yanjun,” Zhangjing moans in beautiful, broken cries. His arms begin to shake, and he collapses onto his arms, keeping his ass raised in the air. Yanjun admires the beautiful arch of his back before pulling out.

 

“Hey—“ Zhangjing’s eyes fly open, protests already dripping from his lips.

 

“Lie down,” Yanjun requests. “I want to see your face.”

 

“Nooo,” Zhangjing whines, but he sinks down anyway, muscles giving in. “That’s embarrassing.” He covers his face with his arms, but his legs are spread and ready for Yanjun, and his chest is moving rapidly in time with his pants.

 

Yanjun laughs. “I bet you won’t be covering your face when you come anyway,” he challenges.

 

“Wanna bet?” Comes the muffled reply.

 

“Okay.” Yanjun slips back into Zhangjing’s entrance, relishing in the sound of Zhangjing’s pleasure picking right back up. He brings Zhangjing’s legs up to rest atop his shoulders and resumes his rhythm, and this time he can see the flush spread down Zhangjing’s neck and across his chest.

 

“Yanjun,” Zhangjing gasps. Yanjun’s cock throbs at the sound of Zhangjing panting his name, on the verge of orgasm. “Yanjun, I’m so close, oh my god.” And Yanjun watches in satisfaction as Zhangjing brings his arms down by his sides to grip at the sheets, twisting them in his hands, as his body twists and arches. One more thrust at just the right angle does it for Zhangjing, and Yanjun watches in reverence as the bliss contorts Zhangjing’s face. Once again, the boundless love for the older man wells up in Yanjun’s chest.

 

As Zhangjing comes down from his high, sated expression on his face and sticky seed all over his own stomach, Yanjun leans down to place a gentle kiss on Zhangjing’s lips. Zhangjing greedily kisses back, and the desire is clear in his actions even as his body is worn out. Zhangjing continues to clench around Yanjun, drawing his own orgasm closer, and with a groan into Zhangjing’s lips, Yanjun releases, filling Zhangjing’s hole with cum. Zhangjing hums happily, clenching around the sticky liquid to keep it inside as Yanjun pulls out.

 

Yanjun collapses into bed, tugging Zhangjing into his embrace. Zhangjing gladly complies, mumbling into Yanjun’s shoulder, “Your cum is leaking out of me.”

 

“Ugh,” Yanjun groans. “Let’s shower really fast and then come back for a nap.”

 

And so Yanjun hustles Zhangjing underneath the warm shower spray, rinsing off the stickiness. Zhangjing’s hair flattens over his eyes, and Yanjun looks down at him fondly.

 

“I told you that you would show me your face as you came,” Yanjun smirks.

 

“Shut up,” Zhangjing glares at him through his wet bangs, looking like a drowned angry cat. Yanjun kisses him on the cheek, delighting in Zhangjing’s flustered expression.

 

“You looked beautiful, my love.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as they’re dry, Yanjun pulls Zhangjing back into bed.

 

“I’m so tired,” Yanjun whines. “Let’s cuddle and take a nap.” He nuzzles into Zhangjing’s neck, who squirms at the ticklish feeling.

 

“We just woke up,” Zhangjing laughs, but he pulls the blankets over the both of them anyway. “But sweet dreams, Lin Yanjun. I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Yanjun coos back, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “You better be here when I wake up.”

 

“I’ve got nowhere better to be,” Zhangjing murmurs back, already dozing off.

 

And with Zhangjing in his arms, with the confirmation of his love, Yanjun couldn’t agree more.

 

Yanjun doesn’t think he could be happier.


End file.
